


broken strings

by eliwithab



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, M/M, Minor Character Death, Oops, Red String of Fate, Self-Harm, Soulmates, Suicide, Unrequited Love, and then it is again, harley kinda be stinky tho, if u ignore the last 2 or 3 paragraphs u can pretend he did not die : ), waitress lady is stinky!!!, which is then not actually unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:08:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23962870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eliwithab/pseuds/eliwithab
Summary: Peter had always been able to see the red strings connecting everyone. He knew that he wasn't supposed to see the strings.He knew they only got cut short when your soulmate died.Right?
Relationships: Harley Keener/Original Female Character(s), Harley Keener/Peter Parker
Comments: 19
Kudos: 97





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello im sorry for any errors i shat this out at 3am after having a vague idea which is how most of my fics go actually anyways bon appétit pls dont yell at me

Peter stared at the red string hanging between his mom and dad, talking in the kitchen. He didn’t know why they were there. They had always _been_ there, but his mom and dad always said they weren’t. It was a weird string. It _looked_ tight, but when his dad left to go to work it stretched and stretched and it didn’t seem to matter.

He leaned forward stared out the window, at all the people on the street and the vibrant strings criss-crossing between them.

Peter flopped back onto the couch and stared at the red string tied around his pinky. The string was loose, unlike his mom and dads. He distantly wondered who might be at the end, but for now he was happy watching everyone else be happy. He knew they would come eventually.

Peter sat on his bed, swinging his legs back and forth. The door to his bedroom at May and Ben’s house was ajar, and he could hear someone pacing in the kitchen.

“Oh, Ben, how are we supposed to tell Peter?” May said. Ben sighed, “I don’t know…”

...Tell him _what?_

They stopped talking for a long time after that, and Peter stood up, peeking through the door. 

He continued watching through the small gap, staring at their string, stretching and shrinking as May walked back and forth. After a while, they whispered something that Peter couldn’t quite hear and they went to bed.

In the morning, they told him he would be staying with them from now on.

“Hey, you, with the red and blue outfit! Aren’t you that wrestler dude? Stop that guy!” Peter stared down at his red and blue outfit, and then at the security guard who yelled at him, who was currently chasing someone.

“I’m a _wrestler_. That isn’t my job.” He said, and continued walking home.

Peter twisted his key in the lock and opened the door. “May, Ben, I’m home!” He called out, receiving no response. Walking into the kitchen, May was sitting at the table with her head in her hands.

Her string was cut and frayed.

Peter felt a small tug on his hand, and he looked down. His string was tighter than normal. His eyes lit up and he quickly moved to follow where it was tugging him. He had followed it on his own a few times, but he had never successfully reached the end.

It began to stop its tugging and he lifted his eyes up from the floor, eagerly searching for who it could be connected to.

It wasn’t connected to anyone. 

Peter stared at the ground, where his string was laying.

It was cut short, limply following a brunette he’d never seen before.

_His_ string led in a completely different direction than where Peter was standing.

At first, Peter didn’t understand. He thought that maybe he had seen it wrong. They only got cut short when the other died, and they were both very much alive.

As he saw more of the brunette-- Harley, he learned his name was-- he admitted that he’d seen it just fine. Everywhere Harley was, his string followed, a constant reminder that he was fated to be alone. 

“Hey, your name is Peter, right?” Peter looked up from his textbook and stared at Harley. “..Yes?” He replied.

“Cool, I’m Harley!” Peter already knew that, obviously, but he nodded and said, “Nice to meet you, Harley.”

Harley smiled, and it was so bright and Peter wished that he could see it more, and that only _he_ would see it because Harley was his soulmate and his soulmate only. One look at their strings reminded him that he would never get his wish, but hadn’t Peter accepted that a long time ago? “Do you need help with something?”

Peter ate his bland burger in the cafeteria, scrolling his phone. Ned nudged him. “Hey, Peter, don’t look now but I think Harley is staring at you.”

Peter obviously disregarded the first statement entirely and looked. As soon as his eyes met Harley’s, the latter looked away, a light blush covering the tips of his ears.

“I think he _likes_ you, Peter.” A small part of Peter’s heart perked up at that, but Peter just as quickly smashed it down to let it rot with the rest of it. “Nah, he was probably looking at something behind me.” Ned quirked up an eyebrow. “Sure, dude,” Ned replied, clearly in doubt, but thankfully left it alone anyways.

“Hey, Peter!” Harley called from across the street. He jogged over to where Peter was standing. “Hi, Harley.” Harley smiled _that_ smile, and walked along the sidewalk with him.

“Can I have your picture?” Peter turned to stare at him. “Huh? Why?”

“So I can show Santa what I want for Christmas.”

A blush quickly threatened to overtake his face, but then Harley moved his hand to rub his neck and Peter’s string didn’t follow, and he remembered that he couldn’t get his hopes up. He laughed, pretending it was a funny joke--really, isn’t that what this all is?-- and continued walking.

“Peter, wanna go on a date with me?” Peter’s head jerked up. “No.” He said, before he had time to process and realize how harsh it was. Harley’s face quickly dropped. “Why not?”

Peter couldn’t think of a lie quick enough. “I.. I don’t know.” He said instead, staring down at the floor, pretending that his string wasn’t cut short and Harley’s didn’t lead to someone else.

“I was joking, it was a mean joke, sorry,” he said, if only to see his smile again. Harley beamed.

Their first date was that Friday. The next one was a week after that, and then the week after and the week after until it became normal.

Peter had planned to stop it first, he _swears_ , but he just couldn’t. One look at Harley’s face and his brain was mush, suddenly forgetting all about ‘strings’ and ‘fate’ and ‘soulmates’.

He pretended he was happy, and that their strings were connected, and he pretended that his string wasn’t getting shorter and Harley’s was getting tighter.

He knew it was gonna happen one day. He didn’t know why he kept lying to himself, that maybe strings didn’t matter, that maybe he could be happy.

Peter held hands with Harley, staring at his thread. It had been getting tighter for a few months now, but now it was taut straight. He sat in the restaurant booth, staring at Harley, and a waitress came over.

In her hand was a notebook, a pen, and a red string, pulled tight and leading to the boy in front of him.

After telling the waitress his order, he excused himself to the bathroom, and pretended he hadn’t seen the waitress hand Harley a slip of paper upon returning.

He pretended he hadn’t noticed that Harley kissed him less. Pretended that he didn’t care that Harley stopped calling him darling. Pretended he didn’t hear Harley’s constant calls. Pretended he didn’t care if Harley left early on dates to go talk to her.

Pretended, pretended, pretended.

“Peter, I’m breaking up with you.”

Over text, of course. He knew it was coming. An idiot could have seen it from a mile away. Yet, that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“We could still be friends?”

He stared at the text message for a long time, pretending he didn’t have tears streaming down his face. Being friends was not enough. He replied ‘sure’ anyways.

Despite Harley’s promise of being friends, it was not fulfilled. They saw each other less and less, the two lovers becoming near strangers. It hurt, of course, but at least his string looked normal.

But that made seeing him hurt even more. A glowing red string, tied tightly between two lovers, and Peter’s, limply chasing after someone who would never love him again.

As much as he still loved Harley, it hurt so much to see him. It hurt so much to see him so in love, and Peter left behind. It hurt to see his broken string. He tried cutting it off, so many times, but scissors never worked and knives phased through. 

He contemplated cutting off his hand, but he knew his powers would make it hurt too much.

As he stared at the glowing string between Harley and his soulmate, he decided that the pain may not be too bad.

He was tired of being alone. He was tired of watching his soulmate be happy with someone else. He was _tired._

Peter watched the red dripping out of the criss-crossing on his forearms, bright enough to rival the now tiny string tied around his pinky.

  
_How ironic,_ he thought, before his vision faded and he forgot all about strings and red and soulmates. He disregarded fate and Harley and the waitress, and passed out.


	2. harley

Harley laid on the couch, his arm rested around his girlfriend. Her gentle snores filled his ears, and smiled softly, playing with her hair.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he slowly moved into the hallway as to not wake her.

“Hello?” He said, realizing he didn’t check the caller.

“Hey, Harley.” Harley recognized Ned’s voice. “Oh, hi Ned! What’s up?”

“Um… I just wanted to check, are you coming?” Harley was confused. “Coming… Where? I have plans with Maria for a while, so I don’t know.”

“Maria?”

“My girlfriend. Did Peter not tell you?” He could have sworn he told Peter about her. “Oh. No, he… Peter, um… No, he didn’t.”

Huh.

“Anyways, come where?”

Ned paused for a moment.

“…Um… Peter’s funeral,” Ned said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Harley nearly dropped his phone. “What? Ned, what? This—Dude, this isn’t funny.”

“I sent you a lot of texts about it. I wasn’t sure if you saw them, though.” Harley took his phone off his ear and checked. True to his word, Ned had sent him around 5 texts about it.

He realized with a start that he had been ignoring Ned.

“Oh. I—I.. Um, well, I—” Harley fumbled with his words, unsure of what to say. “I’m… Sorry, yeah, I’m coming. I… Yeah.”

“Okay,” Ned said, and ended the call.

Harley stared at his phone, even as it shut off. He backed up, and began to slide down the wall, sitting on the floor. He didn’t believe it.

Peter’s twitter hadn’t posted. Neither had his instagram, or his facebook, or even his _tumblr._

He took a deep breath, and read Ned’s messages again.

_Peter had committed suicide._

Harley dropped his phone this time, and he heard it crack. He didn’t care.

Why would he commit suicide? He had seemed so _happy_ when Harley last saw him! He was cracking jokes, and making him laugh, but… The last time he had seen him was months ago.

Months ago, he had been with Peter. They were happy, and together, but then they broke up so Harley could be with Maria. He had broken up with him, and left him alone and for _Maria?_

He hadn’t talked to Peter in months. He should have seen his declining health—Should have realized that something was off. He should have talked to him more, he shouldn’t have left him.

He looked behind him, to where Maria lay on the couch, still asleep. Gently picking up his phone, he left the apartment.

Peter was dead. Peter was dead and nothing Harley did could change that, but he wasn’t happy, of course. How could you be happy, knowing someone was dead and it was your fault?

Harley shook his head. It couldn’t just be his fault. No. It—It wasn’t, he loved Peter, he would never.

He paced the room, grasping at invisible strings. No, it was _Maria’s_ fault. Yes, of course. It was because of Maria that he stopped talking to Peter. If Maria had never—

He sighed. Harley shouldn’t—No, _couldn’t_ blame Maria for this. It wasn’t fair to her, she barely knew who Peter was. And yet, he sighed.

What if he had never met Maria? He had never gone to that restaurant, he hadn’t been so _stupid_ and flirted with her, he didn’t _ask for her number._ God, he was _so stupid._

It was no one’s fault but his own, of course.

It was his own fault that he stopped talking to Peter. His fault he had been oblivious to the signs. It was his fault Peter had killed himself. His own fault that Peter was dead, and cold, and _alone,_ lying god knows where for hours or days until _someone_ had found him dead. And that someone wasn’t him.

_It was his fault._

He nearly doesn’t go to the funeral. He does in the end, of course, he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t. But seeing him laying there, in that stupid wood casket nearly makes him leave right then and there.

Peter’s face was cold, and devoid of the usual emotion and smile plastered onto his face. He was stuffed into a suit Harley _knew_ he would never wear.

Harley slowly walked up to the casket and took Peter’s hand in his. It was freezing, and limp, and it felt so, _so_ wrong. He took a shuddering breath.

Harley Keener swore that he would never cry again after his dad left.

That didn’t stop him from shedding a tear anyways.

When he left, there was a tiny red string on the ground. He picked it up.

**Author's Note:**

> ok so clarification, bfore u meet ur soulmate the string gets tighter until like right bfore u meet them, and if they die or ur a lonely lil loser like pete over here ur string slowly gets shorter n shorter. idk how short dont ask


End file.
